Page 77 of Beneath the Haunting Sea

“Talia?”

She wheeled around to see Wen standing in the doorway. His face was white as marble, every freckle standing out in stark relief.

“Wen! What’s wrong?”

For a moment he just stared at her, jaw working but no words coming out. He blinked. Swallowed. “The Baron’s dead,” he said.Then, voice cracking, “My father’s dead.”

“What?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

“I don’t know what to do. Ahned’s gone to the village for a priest and to send word to Caiden and I—I don’t know what to do.” His face twisted.

“Oh, Wen.” She put her arm around him and he sagged against her, heavy and cold. “Do you want to … do you want to sit with him? Until Ahned comes back?”

He nodded, and they walked together down from the library and into the Baron’s bedchamber, Wen stumbling and dazed, Talia supporting him as much as she could. Flames burned weakly in the hearth, and a pair of heavy drapes were pulled tight over the window, blocking out the winter snow. A lamp glowed, flickering orange over the Baron’s still form.

Wen stared at his dead father, and Talia achedfor him.

“He was ill yesterday,” Wen said. “Ahned and I took turns sitting up with him. He was coughing, struggling to breathe, and then he just … he just … stopped.”

“Oh, Wen.”

“I don’t think he ever forgave me for what I told him about the mirror room. About my mother. I always disappointed him, from the moment I was born. I don’t think he ever fell out of love with Caiden’s mother. I don’tthink he ever fully loved mine.”

Or me,his unspoken words echoed after him.

Talia blinked back the sudden press of tears and slid her hand into Wen’s. “I’m sure he loved you very much.”

They stood together looking down at the Baron for a long while, as the fire turned to ash and the wind moaned outside the house. Talia didn’t let go of his hand. This time it was her being strong, her beingsteady. But she stared at the Baron’s gray skin and saw her mother, clothed in death, drowning forever beneath the haunting sea.

Chapter Thirty-Three

THEY CAME BACK FROM THEIR HONEYMOON INthe middle of a blizzard, the horses tugging the carriage through the quickly drifting snow. Wen braved the cold to go out and meet them, while Talia watched from the window.

He unfolded a canopy and held it over his new sister-in-law’s head to shield her from the worst of the snow during the short walk to the house. His shoulders wereslumped, his frame weighed down with grief.

As the trio approached the door, Talia hid behind the curve of the stair like a coward.

Wen and Blaive came in first, the new bride’s cheeks flushed and her eyes sparking fire. Caiden followed just after, shaking the snow from his coat and his dark hair, glancing once over his shoulder to shout instructions to Ahned regarding the trunks.

Wen foldedthe canopy and Blaive shrugged out of her cloak. Lyna took both cloak and canopy and disappeared down the hall.

“You got the message, then,” said Wen, all stiffness and fettered sorrow.

Caiden rubbed a hand over his eyes. He looked exhausted. “Last evening. We came as quickly as we could. We’ll hold the funeral today?”

Wen nodded. “This afternoon.”

Blaive hovered near Caiden, her cheeks pinkwith delicate worry. “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

He waved her off, rubbing at his forehead.

Darling.Even now, the careless endearment made Talia’s face heat. She should leave her hiding place, offer her condolences. But she just stayed in the shelter of the stair.

“Shall we go and change?” Blaive’s fingers whispered across Caiden’s sleeve.

“You go ahead. I’m fine as I am.”

“But we should wearour mourning whites. Show proper respect to your poor father.”

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